Fighting Dirty
by KissHerJack
Summary: Jack needs to know if his 2IC can fight dirty. Set Season 1 post- Emancipation. Romance is slight... only flirting really. :-)


Title: Fighting Dirty

Part of the 'Moments' Series

Author: Gail R. Delaney 

Genre: General? Kinda Shippy Alittle humor

Pairing: Jack/Sam sorta

Rating: It's pretty clean… PG to be safe.

Length: short

Spoilers: None

Timeline: Season 1 sometime post Emancipation

Synopsis: Jack has to make sure his 2IC can fight dirty.

Archive: 

, Sam and Jack, Helio, Gateworld, SJD, SJfic… if you'd like to post it somewhere else, just let me know. I'm sure I'll say yes, just want to know where.

Feedback: YES!

Disclaimer: I make no money for this. Wish I did.. but oh, well. No copyright infringement intended.

Special Thanks: Always and forever, to my super beta, Jen… who was willing to test my theories… and as far as that goes, I guess Nik deserves a round of applause as well. For volunteering to be 'Jack' in my little scenario… just to make sure it'd work.  I'm sure they had just as much fun as Jack and Sam… more, actually.

"Just why are we doing this, sir?"

Jack O'Neill took up his position on the edge of the exercise mat with his hands set at his waist as his 2IC Captain Samantha Carter, squared off across from him.

"I need to know your skill level."

"You didn't see that when I fought Turghan?"

Jack shook his head once. "What I saw, Carter, was a lot of Hong Kong Phoey."

Her brow furrowed beneath the blonde wisps that covered her forehead. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is that most Jaffa, Goa'ulds and whoever else we meet out there don't know your fancy moves. They're gonna fight dirty, Carter."

She tilted her jaw in a cocky smile and set her fists at her hips. The standard-issue military green jersey shorts stopped several inches above mid-thigh, and her black tee shirt was tucked haphazardly into the elastic waistband. Jack knew he was only supposed to see her as another soldier… but… Hello?! He was a Colonel, he wasn't dead, for chrissake.

"You don't think I can fight dirty?"

"I don't _know_ if you can fight dirty, Carter. That's what I'm here to find out." He hunched forward, assuming a fighting stance.

"Have you done this with Daniel and Teal'c?"

Jack straightened again and huffed. "Are you really worried whether T can take care of himself hand-to-hand?"

Carter shrugged. "No."

"And Daniel. . . I know he can't fight worth a rat's a—worth a hill of beans. I'm gonna work on that."

"So, that leaves me."

"Yes, Captain," Jack sighed. He leaned forward again and held his hands out, palms up, wagging his fingers at her. "Let's go."

Carter tilted her head with a slight shake. "Okay."

Jack made the first move, lunging at her with the simple intention of wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He got her in the hold, but she quickly escaped. In all honesty, he had expected her to. No self-respecting first year cadet could have looked themselves in the mirror if they couldn't.

They circled around each other, leaning forward to shift their centers of gravity. The only sound in the room was the swoosh of their sneakers on the plastic mat and the increased rate of their breathing.

"Come on, Colonel," Carter said after several moments of sizing each other up. "No enemy is going to wait this long to attack."

He didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before he sprang forward and hit her mid-torso. With two muffled grunts, they both fell back on the mat, rolling in a struggle for dominance. Jack had to admit, even if silently and only to himself, that she was strong and agile as she escaped from his holds again and again, usually managing to plant a well-aimed yet obviously restrained elbow in the process. Part of him wanted to thank her for her restraint, part of him wanted her to just let go so he could see what she was really made off.

They flipped again, and she slipped free of his hold, sending a sharp jab of pain up from his wrist in the process. But he refused to flinch, rolling to his knees to be once again on the offensive.

But he didn't have time. His choked yell echoed in the gym as she tackled him and circled his throat with her arm, dragging him down again to the mat. Carter was a blur of blonde hair and green shorts. But he hadn't spent the last few decades in Special Ops and not learned a thing or two. Careful himself not to exert his full leverage power, Jack twisted, flipped and had Carter on her back with a loud expulsion of air as her spine hit the mat.

He straddled her hips and grasped her wrists, pinning them to the mat beside her head, leaning over until their tee shirts nearly touched. Their heavy breathing mingled in the space between them, and he took a moment to acknowledge the determined set of her jaw and perturbed line of her lips. She was royally pissed that he had won.

"Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all."

Her chest rose and fell with exertion, and she struggled against his hold on her wrists. "I'm not done yet."

"Good. That's good. Never give up. But, by the looks of it you're in a bit of a tight spot."

She bucked beneath him, and Jack used his knees like shock absorbers – holding his place but protecting certain _commodities_ he preferred not meet up with Carter's angry knee.

"What's the matter, Carter? Can't fight dirty enough to get out of this one?"

Her body relaxed and her expression eased. The strain against his grip eased, and Jack responded, loosening his hold on her wrists.

"Give?"

She nodded, her hair crackling with static electricity against the plastic mat. Jack let go of her wrists and sat up, remaining in his position over her hips. He rested one hand on his thigh, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the other.

"I'll give you credit, Captain. You gave a good fight."

She lay still on the mat, looking up at him, her expression unreadable and her hands relaxed near her head where he had left them. "Thank you, sir. But there's one thing about dirty fighting. . ."

"What's that?"

"Never give up, and just when your enemy thinks you have, do something he'd never expect."

Before Jack could react, could even think of reaching for her wrists again, she curled her body and drove her hands beneath his tee shirt. Jack tried to get up, to escape, but her damn fingers seemed to be everywhere finding every damn ticklish spot he had.

"Carter!" he shouted, trying to bat her hands away and climb off at the same time, but she was relentless. His brain was screaming _stop! That's an order!_ but somehow the words weren't quite making it to his mouth through his gasps of air and laughter. "C-Carter!"

She shoved him back and he landed hard with a grunt, and Carter took up the same position he had moments before. Her body straddled his hips, but instead of holding his wrists, she continued her ruthless assault on his sides.

"Carter!" he shouted again. "Okay! O-Okay!"

Her hands stopped, and as he fought to catch his breath, he realized she was laughing as hard as he. Jack let his arms fall out straight as Sam shifted her weight to sit on his pelvis, her hands on her thighs. 

"You got me." Jack raised one arm enough to wag a finger at her. "That's not a tactic I'd recommend using on an enemy Jaffa, but it worked."

Carter shrugged and pushed her hair back out of her face, her skin glistening and her cheeks rosy. "Whatever works, right?"

Jack's breathing steadied and he yanked down his tee shirt from where it had managed to creep up over his chest, but Carter didn't move. From this position, and in those shorts, she gave him an interesting view of her legs all the way. . . well, an interesting view. Jack diverted his gaze and stared up at the gray ceiling for a moment. 

"But, aren't you at the same disadvantage as I was? And I have the size advantage. I could just as easily flip you again."

Carter shrugged. "Maybe."

"What's your defense?"

"Well," Carter said, her voice suddenly softer and smoother, coming from the back of her throat. "I have something you don't, Colonel."

Jack swallowed hard and held his breath as Sam Carter slowly leaned down over him, her hands reaching out to first touch his biceps at the hem of his tee shirt, then slowly move the length of his arm towards his hands. Her stomach flattened against his, her – _not her breasts! He refused to actually think of them as breasts!_ – rested on his chest.

"You have several things I don't have, Captain."

_Oh, good one, O'Neill! Good freakin' comeback!_

Carter smiled, slowly, as if she knew the secrets of the universe and all he needed to do was ask and she'd tell him. . . or show him.

"And that is my advantage." Her hands played along his arms some more, and her weight shifted so her body aligned with his and her legs straightened parallel with is own. Her chin slid further down his chest towards his abdomen, and Jack was finding it harder and harder to concentrate.

"You want to explain. . . ?" Jack choked.

She shook her head. "Isn't it obvious yet?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but the only sound that came out was a shout of pain as she slipped her feet beneath his calves, hooking his ankles and leveraged her entire weight back up his body until he was twisted like a trussed up turkey, his knees and hips screaming. Jack tried to buck his hips up off the mat to relieve the pressure, but Carter's own legs were pretzelled through his, taking away any leverage he may have had.

"Ah! Okay! Okay!"

She graciously eased some of her weight off his pelvis, relieving the pressure on his knees, but he still couldn't move.

"Do I pass muster, Colonel?"

"Yes, geez! Just get off!"

Someone behind Carter cleared their throats, and she flew off Jack, rolling onto her back beside him. Jack sat up, pulling his knees to his chest, feeling like they'd never be back in their sockets right again. He shot a glare at Carter, whose cheeks were now bright red as she stared at Daniel where he stood near the door.

"Having fun, Jack?" Daniel asked, his eyebrows arched so high they appeared above the rim of his glasses.

Jack crossed his ankles and rocked forward to move to his feet in one fluid movement. Which surprised him considering the persistent, _loud_ declarations by his knees that he was _never_ to allow Sam Carter to do that to him – or any other man – again.

Okay, maybe one more man. . .

Jack hid his grin as he offered Carter his hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Not as much fun as you're going to have, Daniel. Carter, you're in charge of training Daniel in hand-to-hand."

"Sir?"

"Jack?"

"Hell, she knows more than I do, Daniel." Before heading towards the door, he turned to Carter. "Make sure you teach him that last move we went over."

"Last move . . ."

"Yeah." He winked at her, and a conspiratorial smile touched her lips briefly before disappearing.

"Yes, sir."

Jack headed for the locker room, gritting his teeth to keep himself from actually limping. He'd be damned if he let her see _that._ As he reached the door, he heard Carter speak.

"I'm not going to teach you Karate or anything formal, Daniel. I'm going to teach you to fight dirty."

Jack grinned, and wondered briefly if Sam Carter played as dirty as she fought.


End file.
